


707 x Reader - I'm Not Alright

by GuoXingHe



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:34:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28413228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuoXingHe/pseuds/GuoXingHe
Summary: REALLY OLD!!! I just wanted to repost for some peeps that wanted more MM content
Relationships: 707 | Choi Luciel/Main Character, 707 | Choi Luciel/Reader
Kudos: 18





	707 x Reader - I'm Not Alright

**Author's Note:**

> REALLY OLD!!! I just wanted to repost for some peeps that wanted more MM content

I never wanted to become this person – depressed, dangerous, broken beyond repair. I only want to be loved, but I feel safe behind this wall I’ve built around myself. I know I’m not alright, completely shattered inside. I’d like to believe the only constants in my life are suffering and God. But with your infectious smile, I’ve gained something akin to solidarity in our mutual hardships. They say misery loves company, and I can’t think of a better example than us with you clinging on to me despite my attempts to shove you away. I know the pressures won’t go away, but I refuse to let you fall with me into this perpetual Hell I wade through. 

I wish you would stop looking at me like that from the couch. Your eyes are so inquisitive, but I maintain the perfect lie by paying you no mind. It’s easier to leave you hanging rather than let you in because nothing is worth it. So, when your voice lilts from across the room, I begin mumbling coordinates to myself, attempting to drown out your presence. Your fingers brush my shoulder though, barely grazing the skin of my neck. 

Why do you do this to me?

Pulling off my headphones, with a biting tone, I ask, “What do you want? Can’t you take care of yourself?”

A scowl twists your face, but it lacks the contempt I expect to find. “You need to eat and sleep, moron.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” I turn my attention back to the screen, but you’re unlike any other woman I’ve met. 

“Like hell. Not when I’m here. I swear to God, I will shove the food down your fuckin’ throat if you don’t eat,” you grumble, “That sound like fun to you?”

While my mother got mad at Saeran and me, the anger in your tone is far different from the callous poison she used to spit at us. Dare I say it’s caring in its own way. Maybe we just surprised each other in the end. You found out how much of a mess I truly am, and I found out you’re not the polite optimist I thought you were. Granted, I’m not exactly disappointed, but I can’t say the same for you. I’m the complete opposite of the man you thought I was. Of course, a woman would want a light-hearted optimist that’s not in an illegal organization. Let alone would they want the bastard son of the Prime Minister.

Sighing, I partially relent. “If I eat, will you leave me alone?”

“Maybe.”

At least you don’t deny your intentions of pestering me to death. Despite the misgivings, I snack on some pancakes you make from supplies scrounged up in the apartment. You don’t attempt to mother me to point of vexation, but you’re still searching for more food to ensure we don’t starve to death. We’re trapped in here with a bomb after all and can’t go to the damn store. Honestly, part of me is wondering why the hell I ever listened to Rika when she ordered me to install a _bomb_ in her own apartment.

“Seven,” you call from the kitchen.

Groaning, I remove my headset _again_ , responding, “What?”

“I see someone lingering outside.” You’re by the window and motion me over.

I rub my eyes and move to your position. When I peek outside, I see a young man with white hair and mint-colored eyes. He’s dressed in a red tank and black jacket. On his arm is a large tattoo of an eye, which I can only deduce is a symbol for _something_. It doesn’t seem like he’s noticed us yet, and you cross your arms. 

You speak lowly, “What should we do? You’re the expert here.”

“Well, if he tries to break in, it’s not like we’ll be caught off guard.” I shove my hands into my pockets and shrug. “Neither of us should be alone though even in this small space.” 

Nodding, you agree, “Someone skilled enough could simply grab one of us and run if we’re separated.”

I really didn’t expect you to handle this as well as you actually are. I thought you’d be cowering in the bedroom or simply plastering yourself against me in fear. The fire in your eyes hasn’t died against all odds. You’re stuck in here with a bomb, but you’ve remained calm enough to restrain from acting recklessly. Hell, I’d go as far to say you’d make a good agent, but that’s a Pandora’s box you should never open. 

“I’ll keep watch tonight,” I say.

“We’ll take turns,” you suggest. “You need sleep, Seven.”

I groan, “Why do you insist on that?”

“Because functioning people need sleep. You’re not a robot.”

Sitting at the desk, I massage my temples. “I wish I was.”

Your brow quirks. “So you could work more?”

“That too.”

“You don’t want to feel?”

I freeze, but I can’t disguise the grimace creeping onto my face. “What the hell could you ever know about that?”

“Enough.” Now, you shrug. “Just enough.”

I say nothing more.

You’re reading on the couch, and I place a hand on your shoulder since you evidently didn’t hear me calling your name. You flinch and whip your head around like you’re ready to bolt, but you settle quick enough.

“I checked the cameras, and I haven’t seen that man anywhere,” I say.

You nod and lean back against the cushion. “So, what are we gonna do about the damn bomb?”

“I should be able to figure out the algorithm to disable it. That hacker changed the code which means it’ll go off if we step outside this place.”

You click your tongue. “How long you think it’ll take?”

“Maybe a full day at most, but that’s overestimating it.” I shrug and say, “I’m not promising anything though.”

You scoff, “Always the optimist, eh?”

“Yeah, now you know how much of an ass I can be.”

“I can be too, Seven.” Your smirk does funny things to me because it really shouldn’t be that endearing, but it is. You ask, “Disappointed?”

I truthfully reply, “No. Are you disappointed?”

“We’re only human. Why should I be mad about that?”

Sighing, I push up my glasses. “People naturally wanna be around other happy people. So, why are you paying so much attention to me?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” You wrinkle your brow and ask, “Couldn’t the same be said of you? I’m not this happy benevolent person despite how I act on the messenger. Why did you bother coming to help my ass?”

You have me there. I bite my lip, carefully considering the words to say. What else should I say to you? I can’t just say that it’s because you know the same pain and isolation that I do. That just makes me sound like a terrible person, but in reality, isn’t that what I really am? I’m developing a relationship with another person when I have a job that has a noose around my neck, threatening to drop me off the gallows if I fuck up. 

Instead, I say, “I didn’t want someone to die because of my mistakes.”

Shaking your head, you mumble, “I’m nobody important. I’m just some random girl that stumbled onto something that’d put most dramas to shame.”

_‘You’re important to me, and I still don’t understand why.’_

Standing, you stretch your arms overhead, popping your joints and letting your neck crack. “So, has the RFA always been this, eh, dramatic?”

I purse my lips. “Not on the surface.”

“Good to know now.”

Sitting back down on the floor, I load up my systems again, ready to pour all my focus into diffusing this damn bomb. Still, I say, “I wouldn’t blame you for leaving after this is all done.”

Somehow, you manage a chuckle. “Well, that’s probably what a smart person would do.”

“Then why do you insist on interacting with me?” I pause before asking, “It’s my fault you’re in danger, so why act so caring?”

“Because I do. Need there be an explanation?”

“I don’t know.” I put my headphones back on. “Leave me alone.”

Honestly, I’m not that strong. Out of everyone in the RFA, I’m probably the most weak-hearted, unable to bear my burdens well enough. I should have refused Rika’s insane request, but I worried that if I did, she’d kick me out. I didn’t want to be completely alone again – a selfish desire indeed. It didn’t even make sense considering my job as a spy. We have a hard time maintaining any type of relationship. That’s why I entrusted Saeran to V and Rika instead of ever trying to contact him directly. 

I feel you tap my shoulder again, and I turn. “What is it?”

“I’m gonna sleep now. We’ll switch when it’s time.” Your eyes narrow. “Yes, you need sleep. Sleep deprivation could cause you to blow us up on accident. Think of it like that.”

Saying nothing more, you amble into Rika’s old bedroom and shut the door behind you. I’ve done worse for myself, not sleeping and drinking Ph.d Pepper to stay awake. I can code with my toes for fuck’s sake while I’ve gone without sleep for nearly twenty-four hours. I’m not going to level this place to the ground. Besides, I coded the bomb in the first place. Sure, it’s been tampered with, but how good could this hacker be?

As I continue scanning the code, my thoughts unwittingly wander. How is Saeran anyways? I don’t remember the last time I received news about him. It had to have been before Rika’s death. She’d said he was doing well. Better than he’d ever do with me. Even though I want to see him again, I know how much of a godawful idea that is. The Agency or my enemies would only use him as more leverage against me in the case I fucked up. On the other hand, now you’re in the picture. You’ve also become someone precious when I know it’s completely in vain. Vanderwood will just chide me, telling me that it’s impossible for agents like ourselves to have close relationships with anyone.

“Hey, Seven,” you call from the bedroom, “Let’s switch. Just sleep a bit, okay?”

“No.” My tone should leave no room for argument, but you’ll have none of that.

You stomp up behind me. “I swear to God. I will knock you out myself if I have to.”

“You could never.” Looking back, I narrow my eyes threateningly. “I’d have you pinned to the ground beneath me before you could swing.”

Immediately, your scowl breaks out into a grin as you succumb to a fit of giggles. “That sounds pretty kinky actually. Trying to say something?”

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose in exasperation. “Seriously? Is this _really_ the time for that now?”

Well, I can’t exactly _deny_ the images that flitter through my head at your words. Your body spread bare beneath me while I hover over you with a coy grin on my face. Your skin flushed pink with arousal and silky smooth to the touch. The sweet taste of your lips against mine as my fingers trail against your neck and collarbone. God, and the way you’d feel inside as I’d embrace you.

“Seven!”

When I blink back, you’re crouching in front and waving a hand over my face. My face turns fifty shades of mortified, having been caught at practically having a daytime sex dream. I cough, averting my gaze. “Yes?”

“You were zoning out. Are you okay?”

With the fact you practically chase the blood out of my veins, definitely not. “For the most part, yes.” I clear my throat. “I’m almost done anyways, so just go back to sleep.”

“I’ll stay up.” You shrug. “I have a hard time falling back asleep if I wake up.”

Resuming my work, I grunt, “Suit yourself. Just don’t bother me.”

Who am I?

Who am I?

_Who am I?_

The happy-go-lucky 707.

The hopeful Luciel.

The broken Saeyoung Choi.

I’m all three and none of these at the same time. They mix briefly before separating like oil and water. The combination is just as disgusting too. How can a person like me be alright? How can a person like me be wanted? How can a person like me ever be _loved_?

My father never loved me.

My mother never loved me.

You will never love me either.

“Seven.” You tap my shoulder.

Groaning yet again, I yank off my headphones and shoot you a pointed glare. “What do you want now?”

“Are you alright?” Your head cutely tilts to the side.

Wait, did I think cute? No, it isn’t cute.

I spit, “Does it matter?”

You worry your lip between your teeth. “You just look like you’re ready to kill someone. That’s all.”

“Just frustrated. That’s all.”

“Can I help at all?”

“No, you don’t know anything about coding. Just keep watch.”

“Fine.” You sit right next to me for some weird reason, but you ask, “How much longer you think?”

I click my tongue. “Hour at most. Haven’t gotten us blown up yet.”

You scoff in amusement, “Everyone’ll be thrilled.”

_But no._

_No, I’m not alright._


End file.
